


Unum Nocte Ad Hiberna

by Hushthepuppies



Category: Caesar - Fandom, Cambridge Latin Course
Genre: Ambiorix, Ancient Rome, Caesar - Freeform, Death Threats, Gaul - Freeform, Latin, Multi, Other, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:49:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hushthepuppies/pseuds/Hushthepuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurunculeius Cotta and Titurius Sabinus have been chosen to work together as legates for Caesar over a legion and five cohorts at one of the winter camps. They are complete opposites -- one, practical, brute, and brave, the other, impulsive, indecisive, and idealistic. Needless to say, they hate each other. It's not until they are forced into an unthinkable situation that they truly realize each other's worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unum Nocte Ad Hiberna

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot...so at this point and Cotta Sabinus have already been leading poorly together and clashing and etc. This is the unraveling of events the night before Ambiorix attacks and is meant as an explanation as to why it went down the way it did. Btw I'm a troll so this is def a joke just in case AP Latin gets emotionally invested
> 
>  
> 
> I have that effect
> 
> k hic rem est

In the crippling darkness of the night sky, the fire seemed to twirl and dance. It twisted and curved as if performing some feral routine for them, some daunting harbinger of events to come.

Sabinus hesitantly looked through the furiously frolicking flames to take in the shadowed face directly across from him. From the corner of his eye, he absorbed the figure.

Aurunculeius Cotta.

In the light of the fire, the stray gold strands in Cotta's dark hair glittered and his black eyes reflected orange. 

Cotta. 

He was all grit. He was all sharp plains and rough edges and rigid jaw line. Even with the uplifting thought of their plan for tomorrow and the never-ending kindness of Ambiorix, Cotta seemed to dwell in his own world. Sabinus often imagined Cotta’s mind to be some brooding cesspool of countless things that could go wrong.

Sabinus would say one optimistic thing and immediately Cotta would cut him off with a haphazard “non – you see the problem with that is…” or “eheu deus what a stupid plan you see…” 

Cotta only ever saw the world in black and white. 

And sometimes, that frustrated Sabinus to no end. 

Sometimes he wanted to push Cotta down and force him to listen and to care and to feel. Sometimes he found himself going as far as wanting to reach out and caress Cotta’s cheek, to brush away all his worries and troubles and…

No.

He hated Cotta. He despised Cotta. He could feel it deep in his stomach and he could feel it in every fiber of his being. Every time he looked at those dark eyes and brute physique he shuttered. Something in him stirred, and it was most definitely not a pleasant feeling.

“Legatus Sabinus,” 

Sabinus was suddenly awoken from his thoughts by the voice of one of his favorite soldiers, Albus Dumbledorus. 

“We’ve all finished packing for the sunlight trek. Any chance there’s time for us to take a brief rest? Many of the men have not rested in several days.”

Sabinus frowned at the fire for a moment pretending to deeply consider the idea. A smile suddenly filled his face as he beamed up at Dumbledorus.

“Of course meum amicum! Thanks to the great kindness of Ambiorix we are awarded many pleasantries tonight. Sleep well.”

Sabinus tried unsuccessfully to return his face to the calm, knowing demeanor that he knew a leader should always carry but the sight of his friend’s elated reaction had turned him soft.

Pleased, he closed his eyes to the fire, listening to the fading soft crunch of Albus’s sandals against the frozen leaves running back to the others. When he dreamily opened his eyes back they locked to the glare of Aurunculeius Cotta across the fire and all pleasure and warmth drained from him.

Sabinus quickly looked away, but he could still feel the looming shadow of Cotta suddenly erect from the trunk he’d been perched on and lumber over to him. 

He busied himself with brushing dirt off of his armor and cleaning his swords all to evade the penetrating attention of Cotta. And Sabinus managed well, up until he felt the hardened grip of Cotta's hand on his shoulder forcing him to return the eye contact.

When he did return it, Sabinus wondered if it were truly the fire that was causing him to feel so warm.

“Sabinus, you’re weak.”

Sabinus found himself taken aback by the juxtaposition of the biting words Cotta had spoken and the softness with which he had spoken them. He could feel the blood instantly rushing to his cheeks and in an involuntary jerk reaction fell back from the nearness of Cotta’s face.

Sabinus attempted to play it of coolly, 

“So what does that make you then, Aurunculeius? Strong? Please, constantly looking to fight isn’t strength – it’s ignorance. It’s irrationality…”

Cotta’s shadowed figured was pulling itself too close for comfort again and Sabinus was finding it incredibly difficult to think straight.

“Yeah?” Cotta’s snarled lips taunted. “So what do you consider strength then oh sagacious one?” 

It was all Sabinus could stand to keep a cool demeanor under the pressure of Cotta’s dark eyes and lusty voice. He let an involuntary shiver.

“C’mon then Sabinus– ” Cotta laughed, “I want to hear this, you prick.”

At these words, something in Sabinus broke and all at once he was spitting in an angry, raw, and unthinking stream of consciousness at his fellow commander.

“You know what true strength is, Aurunculeius? It’s having the strength to say what you goddamn feel! What the hell is wrong with you?? Always getting in my face, always looking at me like I’m a piece of meat you want to shred up, like I’m some flower you feel the urge to stamp on! Always stepping on every idea I have. Always saying no. What’s the point of us being associate legates if Caesar didn’t expect us to work together.”

Cotta’s tanned face had noticeably lost all color but Sabinus still wasn’t finished.

“I know we don’t agree, Cotta, but if we expect to get anything done, talk to me. Talk to me! Tell me what you’re thinking so we can get something done together! Anything! You're the prick! Not me!”

Cotta was quiet for a moment and Sabinus thought for a brief second that he had crossed a blaring line when all of a sudden a hand was on his.

Sabinus looked down at his hand slowly not sure if he were imagining Cotta’s hand on top of it or if it was actually happening. He looked over at Cotta wide-eyed for reassurance. 

Cotta’s eyes were shut tightly as he wrapped his fingers through Sabinus’s. 

Cotta breathed out slowly, “I swear Quintus Titurius Sabinus…you will be the death of me.”

Cotta slowly pressed the back of Sabinus’s palm to his lips and Sabinus his body had melted to jello. A moment ago he had felt so brave, so strong. But Cotta's words just as quickly had returned him to a servile position. He knew he was Cotta's.

All Sabinus was able to mutter was a broken croak of, “all this time?”

Cotta’s eyes glittered and his mouth opened with whatever wonderful thing he might say next but he was suddenly interrupted by the confused voice of a third party. 

“Legati…?” a frozen soldier asked from a few feet away.

Cotta immediately dropped Sabinus’s hand and his once warm eyes turned back to impenetrable obsidian.

Cotta hurriedly threw out a rambling of incomprehensible excuses before finally barking, “make sure all the soldiers know that tomorrow – they’re either with me or their with him…”

Cotta shrugged flippantly at Sabinus who now could only watch in complete awe.

“Whatever Commander Sabinus’s plans are, I assert the opposite. Those who are fine with traveling in the wake of such a weak man and absolutely no protection save the guidance of the flighty man of the Eburoni are free to do so. But I do not care to make company with such men! Tell them to make their choice now! Those who choose to join me will not be leaving with the rest.”

The soldier stuttered out a petrified “Right away sir!” Before taking off back to the camp with the news.

When Cotta looked back upon Sabinus, the seething anger visible on his face made Cotta wonder for a moment if Sabinus had been possessed by the wrath of Jupiter.

Sabinus pointed at him accusingly, “It is you who is weak, Cotta!”

He spit every biting word, “Not I. Not I!”

Cotta for a moment thought to apologize but he knew he couldn’t. He could never apologize. Men like him weren’t allowed to have weaknesses. Again and again history had proven that weaknesses meant certain death.

Sabinus's flaming eyes sought for an answer but Cotta could only look away and manage a faux nonchalant, “Perhaps it is so.”

Cotta wondered for a moment if the sacrifice was worth the reward. No, regardless, it was too late now to know.

Sabinus spit at Cotta’s feet before spinning away and growling over his shoulder, “You are a coward!”

Cotta shivered. He was the best at what he did because he had fashioned himself made of rock, a regular Galatea of war and blood. He was the best military strategist and captain because he didn’t feel. When you can't feel you can't fear. That is the absolute Gallic war had taught him.

But now he knew he felt. He knew it with every aching part of him.

He felt it to the ends of his fingers, to the ends of his frozen toes.

He knew that Titurius Sabinus was his Achilles Heel.

And he wondered what that meant for him.

There was nothing the fates hated more than a thwarted spirit.


End file.
